


System Checks

by Viridian5



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Episode Related, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-29
Updated: 2002-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harper and Dylan work off their adrenaline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	System Checks

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Dance of the Mayflies," with a small reference to "Ouroboros."

My body kept singing, "run or fight, run or fight," at me long after the adrenaline would be any use. No more danger now, just the annoyance of having to check and fix what frigging dead people had done to my ship, my baby, but that didn't matter, because I was still wired and twitching, still feeling like my skin didn't fit right.

The protection suit didn't help, not when it encased me so tightly and made me feel like an overstuffed sausage link bursting its casing. My every movement made my underwear rub against my cock, which started out fun but became excruciating. Rommie must have had some hidden thing for me, because this was my suit and my suit only but it fit me too close, so close that you could pretty much see everything I had. Not that she'd admit she'd do such a thing.

"Harper?"

Putting my tools down, I turned to face Dylan and tried not to look at him for long. Not while he was wearing tight black leather pants and a tank top, reminding my body of another way to work off the after-danger twitches. My suit pants were straining already, thanks. Refusing to look didn't stop the lust, but it made me feel like I had a tiny bit of control.

Too bad my eyes kept flicking to him and checking him out anyway.

"You want something, boss?" I asked.

He gave me a considering look that slowly turned heavy-lidded, and then he shifted in a way that I _couldn't_ be reading right. No way. But now he stood in a loose, "I'm available" way, hip cocked, steel rod taken out of his ass, that suggested he returned my interest.

I'd never know if I didn't push it. "You want me, boss?" I asked.

Eyes too bright, he paused, then answered, "Actually, yes." Maybe he had his own twitches to work off.

I could get behind that. Or in front of it, whichever.

When I stood up and stretched, his eyes followed every shift of my muscles, even when I rolled my neck. Oh yeah, we had interest all right. I stood on tiptoes, put my hands together high over my head, and stretched my whole body upwards, working the kinks out.

Dylan stepped up so close to me that I could smell him, sweat, electricity, leather, and a faint bit of dead people. Sex too, sharp scent like he really wanted it. It hit me on a gut level, immediate animal response. I didn't even mind the dead people thing; you didn't survive on Earth by being squeamish. Besides, it's not as if he'd ripped any of the corpses open and rolled in them. They'd only touched him, and they weren't a threat anymore.

But he still hadn't said much, which seemed beyond wrong for Dylan. Made me nervous. When I got nervous, I either talked a lot or did something immediate.

I did something immediate by grabbing Dylan's tank top and yanking him down so I could lick his neck, since I heard from Beka once that Dylan had said something about not kissing. I didn't mind, especially not since his skin was hot, smooth, and salty against my tongue and the rest of him felt so solid against me. If he didn't like it, he'd say so. If he did like it....

Dylan's arm went around me and pulled me closer, pressing me against his erection. Jackpot. If that wasn't a go-ahead, Dylan was the biggest tease I'd ever met, and that would be saying something.

"We could take this to the machine shop," I said. "Unless you want to fall off the catwalk--" Not funny, not after Höhne had plunged to his death here.

Dylan kissed me -- Take that, Beka -- and said, "Sure. Let's bring it."

I would never have expected him to be blasé about getting a little afternoon delight with his engineer, but I never thought he'd want to jump my ass, so take any knowledge I claim to have of Dylan's sexual preferences with half a grain of salt.

"You're way too fond of that phrase, you know?"

"Are you sure you want to complain about me now?"

"Are you saying I should wait until afterward?" I nudged his neck with my nose. "Are you saying I'll have reasons afterward?"

"Not exactly."

"If you haven't noticed, I complain about everything." I let him go. "Catch me?"

"Harper?"

I flew out the door and raced to the machine shop door. Damn, the hallways looked demolished. I loved my work and all, but I'd be happier if I didn't spend so much time repairing battle damage. But I was just distracting myself from my worry. I'd feel pretty stupid if Dylan didn't follow, but him following would suggest that he really wanted to do this, really and truly settling things. I hoped.

I felt his hand brush my back just as I leapt through the shop doorway.

We grabbed each other, and I backed him up toward the wall, the two of us tripping on only two things on our way there. A neat machine shop was a sign of an empty mind. His eyes flashed as he realized that I had him caged against the wall. At my mercy. Or lack thereof. I kept him pinned there with my hands, kisses, and thrusting hips. And if I couldn't figure out that Dylan wanted this as least as much as I did from his erection rubbing against me, his panting and swearing helped. Some creative swearing he had going there. Maybe archaic.

"Harper," he breathed, "this is good, but I'd like some skin here."

I smirked. "You sure?"

"I'd really like to fuck you."

My lust hit overdrive. "I'll take that as 'I'm sure.'"

I let him go and stepped back enough so we could strip. If we'd been more graceful, I could have described us as being like two black snakes writhing out of their old skins, but while the top piece of my suit-- quill-like tubes and all -- slipped right off, the part of the fastener that was over my dick stubbornly refused to budge down. None of my wiggling or yanking got me anywhere. Besides, I had the distraction of watching Dylan pull his shirt off over his head, his muscles shifting, his arms trapped in black cloth, which only made my pants tighter and harder to take off. So I'm as shallow as the next guy, so sue me. Unable to stop myself, I swooped in and ran my tongue down his abs, smiling at the way it made him shake.

"Harper," he gasped, muffled by his shirt.

"Your head says no but your other head says yes."

His erection, hard and twitching under the leather of his pants, pushed against my chin as I tongue-fucked his navel, my hands on his hips. Here, I smelled only Dylan, musk, leather, and clean sweat. I started to unfasten his pants with my teeth--a talent I picked up under circumstances I'd rather not talk about--but got too impatient halfway through and used my hands the rest of the way, which meant that I got a good handful of Dylan once I pulled his pants down. His cock was already slick against my fingers, just about ready....

But his hands pulled at my hair in the universal way that meant "stop." I looked up--far up, dammit--and asked, "What?"

Hot and bothered, he had a nearly mindless look in his eyes. I did that. He said, "While this is also good...."

"You have a different destination in mind. Gotcha--" I stopped myself from saying "boss" just in time. Didn't really want to call him that while he had me kneeling in front of him, just barely prevented from sucking him off. I had standards. Pride, even. Which lasted for about three seconds because I then had to say, "I can't get my pants off by myself." I didn't quite manage to make it sound like a seductive come-on.

Dylan turned a laugh into a cough halfway through. Good try. "I could help."

Even better. "Just what I was hoping for."

I swept a few machine parts off my pallet, sat down, and shamelessly watched the show as Dylan took off his boots and pants before walking over. Wouldn't be dignified or captainly to stumble around with his pants around his ankles.

Dylan tried to pull off my boots off first, but they seemed to be caught in the pant legs. As he grunted and strained, Dylan muttered, "I'm going to have to have a talk with Rommie...."

"I'm sure she'll be sympathetic when you tell her that the way she's cutting my suits is interfering with your nookie."

Dylan sighed, then answered, "I have an idea."

"I'm all ears."

"We'll take the pants off, and the boots will come with them."

At this rate they'd come before I would. "Except that the whole problem is that we can't get the pants off."

"How the hell did you get these on? I swear that I can see the veins in your--"

"Parts of me are standing at attention now in your presence, Dylan, that were at rest before. Got it?"

"Yep." He pushed me down on the bed and stroked the bulge in my pants.

"Uh, Dylan, that's not helping."

"Trust me."

"Dylan, nobody ever says, 'Trust me,' unless--" but I couldn't put any more words together, because his hand felt so good on me that it shorted out my brain. Only my hips had the ability to do anything now, and they pushed up into his touch.

As Dylan stroked, fondled, and gripped me, the fabric of my underwear rubbed and chafed my skin, which somehow made it even better. Clutching the sheets, I writhed and babbled like the slut I am, a shivering, boneless puddle of aching lust. I'd spent too long having sex with just myself and almost forgotten how different someone else's hand could feel. He didn't so much kiss me as nibble me, his hard teeth grazing my neck, my collarbone, my nipples....

Orgasm whipped through me, starting at my toes and vibrating through my spine. Dylan bit me as I bucked up hard against him, and that sudden sharp pain just made me wilder, molten. White out of sensation.

When I could see again, I noticed Dylan lying beside me, watching me intently. He smiled, then teased the nipple he'd bitten with his tongue, sending a throbbing jolt of feeling right to my spent cock. "That was some show." His voice sounded throaty, huskier.

"I aim to please." Not that I could do much more than lie around limply bathing in the afterglow at the moment. Twitchiness cured.

He easily unfastened my pants and pulled them and my underwear down. My boots easily came off with them. "Problem solved," he said.

And right before the mess in my pants became uncomfortable. What a guy. I felt so good....

"Don't pass out on me," Dylan said. I could feel his erection against my hip.

"I'm basking, okay? I'm enjoying the fruits of a Dylan job well done. And if I can stay out while you're fucking me, you're not doing it right."

Watching Dylan try to come up with an answer for that one was enjoyable, but I was a considerate guy too, so I said, "I have some lubricant in the top drawer over there."

Dylan gave me a look but climbed over me and rifled through the drawer impatiently without a word, man on a mission style, finally pulling out a tube.

Wrong tube. I said, "No, not that one. The _people_ lube should be near it. You don't wanna mistake the two, trust me."

"I'm suddenly getting frightening mental images of what you do in here."

I was starting to get a little chilled without him next to me. Look at me, so impatient even after I got some. "One, I get excited about what I do for a living. Two, how do you think I get machines to behave so nice for me?"

"If your work is sexually harassing you--"

"It's consensual, I swear."

Dylan settled at my feet and gave me a significant look. Due to the lack of blood flow to my brain, it took me a while to figure out what he wanted. "Oh, just arrange me," I said. "I think you jerked all my bones out. You're just that good, okay?"

Dylan smirked. "I can't believe you're so knocked out."

"I'm out of shape. If you give me sex every day, I'll get better, I swear."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I toyed with my bitten, throbbing nipple just for the jolts it sent through me, not really thinking about what else it might do until I noticed that Dylan watched me, looking hungrier by the second, as he moved my legs apart, caressing my calves as he did it. Once he got the arranging done, he slid two fingers right up into me, my advanced state of relaxation making it easy. They immediately brushed across my sweet spot, sending sparks of feeling through my body to go along with the sweet burn and pressure.

His cock looked like it was three seconds away from going off, so I said, "Just fuck me. I'm good for it." I could watch the urge to make sure I'd be fine battle the urge to plunge in and fuck me into next week in his eyes. "You won't hurt me," I said. "Give it to me already."

He didn't need any other convincing; I saw it in his eyes. Dylan wanted this badly. Wanted me, even if it was only for the moment.

He grabbed the base of his cock hard as he slicked it up, suggesting that he was afraid that just this would make him come, which meant that he might not last long. I forgot about all of that as he slowly thrust in, trying to give me a chance to adjust to him. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed more to help. The burn and pressure I'd felt before didn't even belong in the same universe as this as he slid in and filled me up. He went in so deeply that I could feel his balls brushing against me. I felt split in half... and I liked it. Big guy, that Dylan. He looked lost, his eyes vague, biting his lip in what seemed to be concentration as he loomed above me.

Then he started to move, and I bit my own lip over how it felt. Dylan started out so slow and steady, but his thrusts soon turned harder, faster, wilder. I lost myself in the slide and friction and pleasure, gripping him with my legs, running my hands over his slick back. The pallet creaked rhythmically under us. "Yes," I kept chanting. Yes and yes and yes.

He was large and heavy on top of me, but the feeling of near danger just gave it all more of an erotic charge. Some people tried to go easier on me, maybe because I'm vertically challenged, but that seemed to be the last thing on Dylan's mind at the moment. Good.

He exploded with two, last teeth-rattling thrusts when I clenched my hands on his ass. Though he still retained enough brains to roll over and collapse to the side of me instead of dropping onto my chest, which I appreciate, since I didn't take pride far enough to like being suffocated. Cooling down, we panted together for a while.

You could stick a fork in me for how done I was. Didn't have a clue what to say either, which was an event that happened maybe once a decade. After all, I always had something to say. It might not always be the _right_ thing, but it was something.

Dylan saved me the effort by nodding out against my shoulder, to my relief. Considerate guy, that Dylan. Guess he was done too. Fighting the undead will do that to you.

The awkward, after-sex talk could wait until we woke up. I ruffled his messy hair, then drifted off to sleep the sleep of the well-fucked.

  


* * *

I woke up slowly but nicely, kind of floating up gently out of dreamland, and this was after dreamland had been gentle and good to me too. Awake, my body felt loose and buzzed and achy in that "I got lucky" way. Should happen more often, dammit. And Dylan was lying beside me.

My heart almost stopped as I remembered yesterday, the undead invasion _and_ Dylan taking the Magic Harper Ride. Memories of the sex came rushing back, the kind of flashbacks I liked. Damn, that had been good, even the parts that had come off like a vaudeville routine. But we still hadn't done the awkward after-sex talk, and I wasn't looking forward to Dylan waking up and getting down to it.

Dylan looked younger and relaxed in his sleep, making me wonder if he usually slept looking like that or needed sex first. He was really naked. And large. Breathing through his mouth, but in a cute way. And he was naked and radiating Dylan warmth and sex scent at me as his breath kept brushing my shoulder. His half-hard cock nudging me hopefully, asking for seconds.

Couldn't get much more naked than we were, nope.

It's not my fault, officer. He brandished his cock at me.

Evil me. Thinking of waking him up just to have more of my wicked way with him. If we had to have an after-sex talk anyway, shouldn't I make sure that the sex was ample and worth it? I knew I was a bad man. Zombie-kicking captains needed their beauty sleep. Even if they were the ones who got us into the situation that necessitated the zombie-kicking.

Dylan needed his sleep.

Then he moved, and his eyelids fluttered. Close enough to wakefulness.

I straddled him and nuzzled his neck, semi-seriously. If he didn't wake up, I'd go away, not being into molesting unconscious people. Dylan started to grind against me and put his arms around me as he nuzzled back. "Harper?" he asked, sounding surprised, stopping.

Yeah, well, I did a reality check this morning too. "Bing! You are correct in guessing today's mystery bedpartner." I kept nuzzling and grinding, groaning at the feel of his hard body rubbing against my cock. Sometimes we aligned our cocks, making them rub all the way down against each other, and that sent shivers through me.

"That's good. It's not like... I have a new one every day," Dylan said, his voice a deep rumble against my skin. His hand slid down my back. "What do I win?"

"You have the choice of a crate of Sparky Cola or getting off with the mystery bedpartner of the day who's no longer a mystery. I know it's a hard decision, since the cola and the bedpartner both go down easy. They're also both effervescent, full-bodied, and turbo-charged with caffeine."

"I'll take door number two."

"You are as wise as you are beautiful."

We ground and rocked against each other, thrusting, getting ever slicker as the friction heated our skins up, making us sweat, and we got more excited. Dylan groaned as I bit his ear, while I nearly slammed myself into the wall when his finger slid down my ass and then up into me, smoothly gliding right up to my prostate. Sparks. I was still slippery and relaxed inside from last night, and way thankful for it. I didn't know if I started to thrust in time with his finger-fucking or if he started to time himself to my thrusts, but we hit a rhythm, his cock, my cock, and that wicked finger of his.

I felt orgasm coming up on me like an express shuttle. "Dylan," I gasped as I rocked. The next thrust of his finger went exactly where it needed to go, and I followed, bucking, shouting. Since it seemed like a crime not to share a good orgasm, I put my hand around Dylan's cock and jerked him until he came just a half-minute behind me. That was fair.

Once I finished, I collapsed on top of him and stopped moving altogether. He didn't have to worry about me crushing him. Afterglow, engaged.

Dylan let me enjoy it for a while, even toying with my hair idly, before saying, "Uhm."

"Not how you planned to wake up this morning?"

"No. Though this is much better."

Ooooh, encouraging. "Wanted you, you know."

"I would _hope_ so. I mean, for us to end up like this, not that you should just want me in general.... Stop smirking at me; you know exactly what I mean."

"Flustered just looks cute on you, that's all."

Dylan sighed, long suffering. "We're going to end up stuck together."

"Where does the romance go?" I asked as I rolled off him.

"I wanted you for a while now, but it didn't hit me hard until we figured out a way to stop the Bokor together."

Yeah, there had been an almost sexual thrill to getting the solution in tandem, coming up with the answer at almost the same time. But.... "You want me for my mind?"

"Then I saw you crouching down in those pants, fixing things."

This wasn't so awkward. Cool. "Oh good. I feel really special now. But I gotta admit that I only want you for your body. Ow! Engineer abuse!" Bastard did a little snap of the wrist with that arm smack to make it sting more.

"I barely touched you."

"Yeah, sure." I was starting to feel kind of sticky. "You know, I have a shower stall here, mostly meant to be used for accidents that require immediate dowsing, but it works fine for regular use and fits two people if you're friendly."

Dylan smiled almost sweetly. "I'm friendly."

So.... "You wanna wake up like this again sometime? Somebody told me that I'm out of shape."

It was worth a shot.

Dylan's eyes glinted. "As your captain, it's my duty to keep you healthy." Aw, yeah.

Then he slapped my ass. Jeez. I was so gonna make him pay for that.

He'd need some training, but they didn't call me the miracle worker for nothing.

 

### End


End file.
